it's her (and she's walking towards you)
by swarklesinstorybrooke
Summary: "It's her and you don't know what to say. It's her and you want to run, want to hide, want to keep it all inside. It's her and she's walking towards you." Ziva arrives in DC two years later with a little something in tow.


**A/N: It's been a really long time since I've written these two. But I had this idea a couple of days ago, and just went for it this afternoon. It's in second person, so if that isn't your thing then I apologise:p I don't own them (if only), or the song. Any mistakes are mine. Please review if you can!**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

_I am in love, and I am lost_

_But I'd rather be broken than empty_

_Oh I'd rather be shattered than hollow_

_Oh I'd rather be by your side_

_….._

_Time, time is a fickle thing_

_Let's see what it can bring_

_I cannot leave you behind_

_Time, time's running out_

_My hands, oh give me your hands_

_I cannot leave you behind_

_-First Aid Kit, Shattered and Hollow_

* * *

"She's here."

That's all it takes from Gibbs to send your heart into overdrive, brimming with possibilities and promises and hope - hope that you haven't had in a very long time.

"Are… are you sure?" you ask, not wanting it to be true. Not wanting her to have been here without you knowing, or _feeling._ But he nods, and you're elated. The anger you had spent night after night forcing yourself to feel had all but faded away, because she's here, she's _here,_ and there's no need to be angry anymore.

"She got spotted sat outside a restaurant downtown. Seems she's there a lot." Gibbs looks at you, tries to gauge your response. You show nothing.

"Can I have the address?"

* * *

You go there every day. Walk up and down the street, looking straight past everyone you encounter. They don't matter; they aren't her. Once or twice, like you've done so much the past couple of years, you think you see her. You see a mess of curls, an olive hand running through them, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Of course, it's never her.

Not until this time. This time when you're sick and tired, and standing up from the seat you've frequented for weeks, and it's her across the street, outside the restaurant. It's her and you don't know what to say. It's her and you want to run, want to hide, want to keep it all inside. It's her and she's walking towards you.

* * *

You realise that she never said she loved you. And perhaps she doesn't. Telling someone that you can't pretend anymore proves nothing. And besides, that was years ago. Back when you could comprehend living without her. Before you couldn't, and she left anyway.

You used to be so desperate for some reciprocation, some semblance of feeling, that you perceived love in every action she made. She would touch your hand and she loved you. She would spill her secrets and she loved you. She would touch your forehead with hers and your brain would cry 'This is it. Finally.'

Of course, it never was. It was "f…friend", the hesitation meaning not nearly enough. It was "I'm not going without you", not that she couldn't. It was "You are so loved", not any declaration.

Maybe she had loved you, though. You had indulged this thought from time in the years after she left: maybe, in spite of everything, in spite of tears and betrayal and consequence and leaving, there had been a part of her that wished she belonged with you just as you belonged with her.

Regardless of whether she had said it before, she was screaming it now. As she crosses the street towards you, it's in the shy smile on her lips, the glint in her eyes, the tap, tap, tap of her boots on the gravel. And she says your name, and you feel whole again.

* * *

"Tony." she says, breaking into a smile nothing less than euphoric, as if it was you that had ran to the other side of the world. Your name sounds different from her lips; it sounds free, and calm, and like nothing you've heard before. No matter how much you try, you say nothing, and so she guides you across the street and sits you down in a rickety wicker chair. She whispers something to a waiter who gives you both a knowing smile, before she too sits down in front of you.

"You know, I'm sure there's a movie like this." you attempt to revert to type, and this eases her.

"You have not changed." she laughs, and then stops. "Actually, you have."

You tense up. "I have?"

"You seem... older. Less juvenile." she ponders.

"You've only seen me for a split second, Ziva."

"I can tell." and you know that she can; she knows you better than anyone else ever could. Before too long she's asking you more mundane questions about NCIS and the team, sensing that she's struck a nerve, but you can only respond with one word answers.

* * *

"How long have you been here?" you say eventually. She goes to lie, and you can tell. She spends a few moments searching your eyes, as she used to, before taking a deep breath and forcing back the smile.

"A couple of months."

"Months." you say, almost as a question. She nods, and you drop your head to your hands, and laugh.

"Forgive me." her words carry more weight than she'd anticipated. "I wanted to be sure that this was what I wanted before I rushed into anything."

"And is it?"

She smiles at you again. "Perhaps."

You can't be upset that she waited so long to get in touch. You can't be angry, or feel betrayed, because she looks so happy, so peaceful, so _free _in a way she never has done before.

"I have missed you." she says eventually, after another lengthy silence.

"You have?" you're speaking in short sentences, rushing, as if she'll disappear if you take any longer.

"It has been… two years, Tony." she sounds scared of the time, reluctant to admit it, as if you haven't been counting the hours.

"Has it really." you come off bitter, and you are. You'd always told yourself this day would come, even when everyone around you, even Abby, refused to believe it. Everyone had acted as if she'd never existed, merely a blip on their radar, while you sat at your desk screaming her name inside. She'd left you alone. Alone in this town, this country, this state of mind.

"Tony." there it is again. "When you left me in Israel… there had been a part of me that had wished you would not have taken no for an answer. That you had begged, and pleaded. I might have said yes. But I'm glad that I didn't."

"It wasn't me that left, Ziva." you confirm to her, your voice dejected and attempting to be cold.

"I know. It was me. But I was confused, Tony, and I needed time."

"Confused at what?"

"At me. Who I was, or what I was. I needed that time to realise that I had not been in the right frame of mind when I got on that plane. But I'm Ziva David, and I'm brave, and loyal, and… a good person." she allowed a tear to escape chocolate eyes. "I had forgotten who I was." she repeats the concept, trying to make Tony understand. "I did not remember until I was 6 months gone."

"Gone?"

"Pregnant." she tells you matter of factly, and you just about retain your composure. "I found out a month after you left. I was very early on, and I cried every day. I knew I could not do it, I could not be a mother when there was no-one by my side. Then I got to six months, and I felt her kick for the first time. I had been worried, it had been so long, but the second I felt it, I knew who I was. Who I had to be, for Eliana."

"Eliana? Is that…"

"Her name. Your daughter's name." she checks your face for a reaction, the tears in your eyes apparently not enough.

"I like it." you say, at a loss for anything else.

"It means 'my God has answered me'. And he had."

"Why didn't you tell me? I get that you didn't want to see me, but god Ziva, even a phone call?" you raise your voice, before calming yourself down again. It's ok, you remind yourself, she's here.

"I did not want you to feel obligated. To feel pressured into providing care for us. But time went by, and Eliana got older, and I started to miss you more and more. I realised that it did not matter to me what you thought. I would just have to trust that you would understand that it was never my intention to hurt you."

You sit outside that restaurant considering this until the sun starts to set. She continues to talk about your daughter; her impossible to manage hair, her mischievous streak, the way she still walks unsteady on her feet. But it all washes over you. You can't comprehend that for over a year there has been another human in this world connected to you. You had felt so alone, so completely alone, and a few thousand miles away you had had a ready made family.

You're scared to meet her. Terrified. Practically cowering at the prospect of a little girl. But your father was never the greatest of parenting role models, you justify, and it's understandable for you to greet this with trepidation.

* * *

It takes you two weeks of avoiding Ziva to realise that she must have felt the same. She has no parents, no family to speak of, and she'd been entrusted with this child, this _l__ife_ that she needed to protect in a way no-one had ever protected her.

You'd spent two years trying to deny your connection to her. But now it's Wednesday, and you miss her. You realise you didn't even ask for an address when you met with her, and so you head out once again to the restaurant, and lo and behold, there she is.

You sit down in front of her, and this time, you open up. _Really _open up. You tell her about how you didn't sleep for a week after getting back from Israel. You tell her how nothing; not even alcohol, that had always worked so well before, had been able to fill the gap that she left. She looks guilty when you say this, and takes your hand. She tells you that she remembers how you were after Jenny, and how she had left you then too. She tells you that she's sorry, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" over and over again until there are tears in her eyes, and you touch her hand with your thumb to tell her that it's ok.

You don't know what it is that you've been searching for. It could be Ziva, but maybe it's just comfort. You've always needed someone to help you get by; a one-night stand, a friend, and then she fought her way into your life and you were never able to get free. The lines between her and what you wanted became so blurred that soon one became the other. You wanted Ziva. Ziva was all you'd been waiting for. She'd left, and you'd been broken, and then you'd fallen back into that belief so quickly that you weren't entirely sure if this was what you wanted.

But maybe it _is_ Ziva. Even now. Maybe it's only her that can fill your heart in a way you'd never wanted before. And now she looks at you, as if she's seeing what you're thinking. And she laughs as you joke, and her smile, god that smile.

You tell her with a grimace on your face how you've known her for 10 years, and loved her for almost all of them. When you say that, she does that same smile, allowing a second for it to reach her eyes.

"I love you. You know that, don't you?" she asks, as if you're an idiot for not realising. You see that the walls she had so carefully constructed have crumbled now, and she's free, she's finally free.

* * *

She tells you that Eliana is with a babysitter, and with that you take her to your apartment. She hovers in the doorway for a moment, until you take her hand and lead her inside. "It's ok", you repeat to her. "It's ok", you repeat to yourself.

Before you have a chance to think, she's kissing you. It's not the first time by far, but it might as well be. You've forgotten the taste of her lips, the feel of her tongue, the way her hands touch your face. It's under cover, and Paris, and Israel as she lies on top of you. It's "I love you" from her lips, whispered over and over as she kisses your neck and runs her hands down your back, not stopping until you're kissing between her legs.

As she lies in your arms hours later, the two of you watching the night through the window, she speaks into the arm you have wrapped around her.

"I was wrong."

Your heart leaps in your chest. "What about?"

"Some things are inevitable."

You smile into her hair, and she turns over to look you in the eye. "You are not going to regret this, are you?" she asks, fear present in her eyes for the first time in a long time.

"I've been waiting for this far too long to ever regret it." you say, and you mean it.

* * *

The next week she asks to be taken to NCIS to see the others. Only Gibbs even knows she's in town, and you hadn't been able to find the words to tell the others yet. You aren't ashamed to admit you're being selfish, but you want to keep her to yourself for as long as you can. In your little dream world, where reality can't find you.

But now it's Monday and you're stood in the elevator that holds more significance to your relationship than you can admit. You should be thanking this elevator, truth be told. You say it out loud, barely a whisper, and she gives you a look like she used to before grabbing at your hand. She squeezes your fingers tight, and you groan, and she laughs because some things never change.

The doors open, and the two of you walk out slowly, both terrified for your own reasons. Gibbs made sure that everyone was in the bullpen, and as you draw closer to them, McGee drops his drink. Abby scowls at him, and he points to the two of you. She grabs your hand tighter, and as the others turn, Abby lets out an almost inhuman squeal and you can't see Ziva from the hugs she is enveloped in, though she still has your hand, still squeezing. Ducky pats you on the back, as if he knew this would happen all along. Gibbs hangs back from the group, smiling over them, because his daughter is home, and he'll be able to catch up with her later. But not now. Now she is being introduced to Bishop, who seems as nervous as you feel, but Ziva gives her a hug too, and you see both of them breathe a sigh of relief.

She sits on the front of your desk, fingers tapping against the metal as she is instructed to tell everyone what she's been doing. She tells them about Eliana, and now you're getting hugs too, because you're a dad, and your family has a new member.

* * *

This day couldn't be more surreal if you tried, and yet you're happy. You're so unbelievably happy, because she's back, she's back for good. She's laughing and joking with your family, and you know that no matter how much pain it caused you, you made the right choice. Because look at you now.

As the two of you walk hand in hand to your car, you think about what it is that you really want. You tell her you want to meet your daughter.

"Are you sure? I told you that I did not wish you to be pressured, this does not have to mean anything for you."

"She's my daughter, Ziva. _Our _daughter. Do you think I'd ever forgive myself if I didn't at least meet her?"

And so you drive, and she tells you where to go. She tells you about the friend of her mother's she's been staying with, the loud, brash woman who had taken the two of them in without even a thought. The woman who Eliana now calls Aunty Sarah.

She opens the door, and you don't move, just as she hadn't in your apartment. She says something in Hebrew, and a short, plump woman comes bustling into the room, and she takes you in her arms and hugs you so tightly you can barely breathe. As Sarah begins to ask you question after question in broken English, you lose sight of her, only for her to reappear carrying your daughter in her arms.

She's smiling, and your daughter is smiling. Your daughter is smiling with your mother's smile and her mother's eyes, and you tell her that you're her dad. She smiles even brighter at that, even if she doesn't know what it means. She passes her to you, and Eliana clings on to your shirt, as Ziva places an arm around your back. And you know. This is it. This is what you've been waiting for.


End file.
